


somewhere they can't find us

by stormeyes



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: (both very mild), Alternate Universe - 1960s, Carnival, Fluff, M/M, References to Depression, References to Drugs, Shameless Simon & Garfunkel Appreciation, a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-04
Updated: 2018-01-04
Packaged: 2019-02-28 07:00:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13266171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stormeyes/pseuds/stormeyes
Summary: despite everything, phil thinks simon & garfunkel sounds a lot like poetry.~set in southwest indiana in 1967





	somewhere they can't find us

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from the song "somewhere they can't find me" by (you guessed it) simon & garfunkel
> 
> this was a therapeutic piece for me to write and i hope its a therapeutic piece for you to read
> 
> many thanks to m, as always

phil sits and nurses his drink at the bar, thinking about what he’s just done. he’s just started the great lester family controversy, is what he’s done, he’s sure of it. he gloomily swirls the dark brown liquor in his tumbler. he’d asked the bartender for the strongest drink they serve, but he’s starting to regret that because, quite frankly, it tastes like horse piss. gets the job done, though. he takes a swig and shudders as he sets the empty glass back down. yeah, it definitely gets the job done. 

he still feels the whiskey burning down his throat and in his chest when the pianist tinkers out the last notes to the jaunty jazz song he’d been playing. phil sighs and idly wishes they could play something a bit more… representative of his mood. a real downer. as if the pianist can read phil’s mind, the opening to _the sounds of silence_ begins to fill the smoky indiana dive bar. phil picks his head up in surprise to see a tall (and wildly attractive, his traitorous head supplies. his traitorous heart, thumping madly, agrees.) boy walking away from the piano, obviously having just requested the song. the handsome stranger meets phil’s gaze and smirks, giving a him a two-fingered salute as if to say “hi, i noticed you seemed a little down so i requested this song for all your wallowing needs. also, i’m your soulmate.”

phil’s dreamy (and probably slightly creepy) staring is cut short by a strong hand clapping him on the shoulder. “phil, mate,” martyn says, “we’ve been looking all over for you.” phil sighs heavily. he’s going to miss his brother when he’s cast out of the family. 

“keep looking, there’s no phil lester here,” he says morosely, sighing again. slightly overdoing it. 

cornelia catches on immediately. damn her. “oh, don’t be so dramatic, phil,” she rolls her eyes. phil looks at her, thinks how lucky martyn was to find her. blazing red hair as bright as her smile and her wit, cornelia was a real choice girl. if only phil were into girls. 

“yeah, we don’t give a shite who you shag,” martyn adds crassly. 

“it’s illegal,” phil hisses under his breath, trying not to be overheard, “just because you two are free-thinkers doesn’t mean everybody else is,” he says, “or even that mum and dad will be accepting.” the thought makes a crippling wave of misery crash over him and he frowns at his empty glass. maybe he should ask for another. 

“you’re being juvenile, mate,” cornelia assures him, “plenty of people are ok with it now. for the times, they are a changin’, and all that.” 

“yeah,” martyn chimes in, “and mum and dad were just shocked, that’s why they reacted like that. the town carnival maybe wasn’t the best place to bring it up,” he chuckles sardonically. arse. 

“i just need some time alone, i think,” phil says quietly, letting the gentle tune of the simon & garfunkel song calm him. he spares another glance toward the handsome boy who requested it and finds him staring right back. phil blushes furiously and stares back at the bar counter. 

martyn, the twat, picks up on this immediately and waggles his eyebrows at phil suggestively, “see someone you like, eh? go get him, philly. you deserve it.” 

cornelia nods fiercely in agreement, fiery curls bouncing around her smiling face. she forcibly shoves phil off his stool and he stumbles over to the table where the boy sits. 

he was wrong, he thinks heatedly. those two deserve each other. 

as if they hear him, they wave at him in unison, smiling sarcastically, before fleeing the bar. gits. 

“would you like to sit?” phil hears, and looks down at the boy, who’s gesturing towards the open chair across from him. phil hesitates, thinks ‘fuck it’, and sits. 

“thank you, i’m phil.”

“hi phil. my name is dan,” the boy replies, doing a weird thing with his hands where he mimics wearing a name tag. phil can’t stop himself from snorting. dan’s awkwardness was strangely adorable, and made him less intimidated about his own eccentricities. 

dan sighs dejectedly. “that was so stupid, i don’t know why i did that,” he laughs uncomfortably. 

“don’t beat yourself up about it, it’s quirky.” phil shrugs, wanting to keep dan from closing himself off, “i love this song, by the way. thanks for requesting it.”

the last notes are just starting to fade out when dan nods eagerly in response, appreciative of the change in subject. “yeah, i saw you didn’t look too happy so i requested it. plus, it’s my favorite song.”

“it is? but it’s so depressing.”

“yeah,” is all dan replies, frowning down at his hands. and, oh. 

“so you’re from england too? south?” phil asks, trying to move onto something happier. 

“yeah, berkshire. you’re from the north, i can tell,” dan smiles a little as he says that and phil’s heart stutters in his chest.

“guilty,” he chuckles, “my dad moved us here three months ago for his job. I started at twin oaks this week.” 

“oh so you’re the new senior!” dan exclaims, perking up, “i’m a sophomore there. everybody’s been talking about you all week.” 

phil raises his eyebrows. he hadn’t thought he’d stood out too much at his new school. he bets everyone is calling him a poindexter behind his back. that’s just great, so much for impressing this boy. 

“what are they calling me,” he asks hesitantly. it’s better to know, he decides.

“they say you look like a beatle,” dan giggles. it's such a cute giggle. 

“the bug or the band?”

dan rolls his eyes and punches phil lightly on the shoulder, “the band, twit. all the girls think you’re a dreamboat.” dans cheeks flush pink at that, and god phil wants to kiss those cheeks until they’re pink for a completely different reason. 

phil waves his hand flippantly, “they’re only saying that cause i’m british,” he insists. 

“they never said it about me, and i’ve been here three years,” dan says with a slightly bitter edge. 

“not to your face, maybe. in my opinion, paul is the most attractive beatle,” phil tells him, and it’s true. “and you could totally pass for him.” he declares, and that’s true too, though phil sounds more bold than he feels when he says it. 

“nah,” dan says modestly, the blush turning from pink to red and yeah, bingo. phil smiles to himself, unable to stop it from creeping onto his face. he’s got to change the subject before his fond starts showing too much. he clears his throat. 

“so why’d you cross the pond, anyway?” he asks.

“ironically, because of the beatles.” 

phil raises his eyebrows, “you a big fan?” 

“no, no definitely not. not really my thing, them,” dan hastily clarifies, “my mum, on the other hand, was a beatles groupie. right from the start, when i was six, she was following them on tour and everything. my dad got fed up after a while and left us, and then i was joining her on tour too.” 

“wow that is.. not very good parenting,” phil observes, at a loss of what he should say in this situation. 

“well she was tripping on acid for most of my childhood so i doubt she even remembers she’s a parent,” dan says bluntly, emotionlessly. “anyway, three years ago the beatles came here, so we did too. i decided i liked it here, and happened to have an aunt in this town who was kind enough to take me in after seeing what bad shape my mum was in. been here ever since.” he sits back in his chair as if winded from delving so deep into his past. 

“wow. i’m sorry you had that experience. it sounds terrible.” phil says, wishing his words could wrap themselves around dan and embrace him. wishing he could do that here, in public. 

“i mean it could be fun at times,” dan amends, “got to see a lot of places, got to miss a lot of school. held me back a year when i got here, but still.” 

“where is your mum now?”

dan snorts. “fuck if i know,” he says, then adds hastily, “excuse my language.” 

phil laughs, “i don’t give a fuck what kind of language you use with me.” dan laughs at that, too, more comfortable now. 

“do you.. would you maybe.. want to come to the carnival with me? just because i was about to head over there anyway but it would be more fun with a… friend?” he asks tentatively, and phil thinks he’s asking about both going to the carnival and the idea that he and dan could call themselves friends now. 

his initial instinct is to say no, to make his excuses and drive home. his parents are probably still at the carnival, after all, and he doesn’t want to risk the chance of running into them, especially with a boy after what he’d done earlier that night. 

but dan’s looking at him so hopefully and phil doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to say no to dan. 

“lead the way, friend.” 

~*~

“that game was rigged,” dan is aware of the whine in his voice as he takes a bite out of his cotton candy, “i totally could’ve beat you”

“if it was rigged then we would both be at a disadvantage. and i would still win,”  
phil says the last part is a singsong voice that makes dan want to punch him almost as much as he wants to kiss him. (he does neither.) 

to add insult to injury, phil waves the teddy bear in dan’s face mockingly. it’s a stupid prize to win, anyway. not cute at all. so he tells himself. 

“whatever,” dan says (though he can’t hide his smile) and shoves phil away, “it's just a dumb ring toss game. i didn’t want to win anyway.” he knows he sounds so petulant and he is not trying to give phil the impression that he’s a fucking child who can’t handle losing he just... hates losing. 

“hey,” phil puts a hand on dan’s arm and dan stops walking to face him, eyes on his shoes, “i was gonna give it to you anyway. here,” and he thrusts the bear into dan’s hands and resumes walking. 

dan looks down at the smiling bear in astonishment. the next thing he knows, he’s beaming and hugging the bear close to his chest before jogging to catch up with phil. 

“his name is susan,” phil says with a wicked smirk on his face and dan can’t keep from laughing. 

“ _his_ name?”

“yes, his. got a problem with a man named susan?”

“no,” dan insists, “i like him even more now, in fact.” and that was the right thing to say evidently because then phil smiles at dan, big and true, and dan’s heart leaps into his throat. 

“do you want to go on the ferris wheel next?” dan asks, craning his neck upwards to observe the rickety ride. oxidation was rusting its hinges and the carts swayed back and forth rather precariously. 

phil must have been thinking along those lines because he says, “looks a bit… unsafe. like we might get to the top and a soft breeze will knock the cart straight off the thing.” 

dan sighs. it really did look like fun. but then phil’s smiling at him and saying “let’s go,” taking his hand and leading him over to the ride operator and handing the bored-looking teenager two tickets. phil drops dan’s hand to point both thumbs at himself and say “i’m buying,” with a cheeky grin. 

dan’s mind is still reeling from the hand-holding thing as they sit down in their cart and place the bar across their laps. he can’t think straight because all he can focus on is the heat of phil’s hand in his for those few endless seconds. which is why he probably ends up saying the worst thing imaginable in this situation: “you’ll have to buy me dinner at least, i’m not a cheap date, you know.”

and now phil is looking at him with raised eyebrows and oh god what has he done? dan would normally take off running in this situation but they’re already 20 feet off the ground so he just sits there, using his palms to attempt to scrub the blush from his cheeks. 

but then their cart is at the top of the ferris wheel and phil is prying dan’s hands away from his face and saying, “i’ll remember that,” and lacing their fingers together. 

they share a secret smile and then look out at the carnival below their feet, the town below their feet, the world below their feet. dan thinks, with a view of the ohio river to their left and the tops of the expansive forest trees to their right, and phil’s hand in his, that this must be what flying feels like. 

~*~

“i want to go to university here, for film studies. maybe move to hollywood or new york,” phil replies to dan as they walk between a lion tamer tent and a fortune teller booth. 

“i want to star in those films,” dan’s laugh is a bit embarrassed, phil can tell, “i want to study acting.”

“that’s awesome!” phil says enthusiastically, “we could be like the power duo of movies.” 

dan smiles at that, shy but genuine. phil likes that smile a lot, he thinks. he proceeds to nudge dan with his shoulder, being careful not to jostle dan’s caramel apple. 

“don’t ever be ashamed of your dreams, dan,” he says. 

they keep walking in comfortable silence until carnies wearing masks spill out from the tents and walk among the visitors, miming skits and telling little jokes. dan looks around wildly and laughs uproariously and phil thinks about how lucky he was to run away from his family this afternoon and met this incredible boy. 

as if summoned by his thoughts, he and dan almost run straight into his mother, having been distracted by the masked carnies. phil freezes in horror. 

“philly!” she exclaims, calling the attention of phil’s dad and dan (who snickers at the petname, the little git). 

“hi mum, dad,” phil says tonelessly, not meeting their eyes. 

“we were so worried when you ran off all upset, son.” his dad says, placing a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“listen, honey,” phil’s mum leans in closer to him, “you know we support you no matter what,” she says seriously, earnesty shining in her warm eyes. 

phil, taken aback, nods dumbly. “thanks, guys,” is all he can muster to say. 

“of course, baby,” his mum holds his face in her hands and kisses him on the cheek. phil scrunches his nose and wriggles out of her grip because he’s a teenager and they’re in public for god’s sake. 

“who’s your friend, phil?” his dad asks, placing a strong emphasis on the word ‘friend’ that makes phil internally cringe. 

“this is dan,” phil replies hastily, then turns to dan, “dan, these are my mum and dad. introductions settled, we have to go. love you both, see you at home!” he says loudly, already pushing dan as far away from his parents as he can get. 

typical parental embarrassment aside, phil is really happy he got to talk to them. them being accepting of phil liking boys is something he didn’t expect, but he’s so grateful to have parents like them. 

“what was that about?” dan asks curiously, “why did you run off earlier today to end up in that bar looking like a sad puppy?” 

phil knows their friendship potential is on the line here, but he’s not about to start lying to dan now. so, as terrified as he is, he tells the truth. 

“i’m a homosexual, dan,” he says bluntly. rip off the bandage, right? “i belong over there with them,” he points to the “freakshow” section of the carnival. “i know it’s disgusting, and i understand if you want to leave. but i would really appreciate if you didn’t tell anyone at school about this.”

“first of all,” dan says fiercely and oh boy, here it comes. “i hate the freakshow, it's cruel and inhumane. secondly, if you think you belong there because of who you are then i should be locked up too.”

phil picks his head up in surprise to find dan looking formidable for the first time since he’s met him. his shoulders are square and his jaw is clenched and his eyes are on fire. “are you saying…” 

“yes, i am. and if you have a problem with yourself or me or anyone else like us, then you’re not the kind of person i would want to be around anyway.” he starts striding away confidently, but phil grabs his arm. 

“no, no that’s not what i meant. i thought you were going to feel that way about me,” he hastily explains, desperate to keep dan here. “because… i don’t know, most people do.” 

“well, lucky for you, i am not ‘most people,’” dan replies with a smirk on his face. phil smiles in reply, still holding his arm, fingers buzzing happily at the touch. 

“do you wanna maybe go somewhere?” phil asks, squeezing out his last drop of courage. 

“i’d love to,” dan says.

~*~

phil parks his 1960 ford falcon just before the shoreline. phil’s hand is on the gear shift and dan’s leg is bouncing rapidly next to it. phil wonders if dan is as nervous as he is. he cuts the engine and there’s silence. phil hasn’t done anything like this before - and he doubts dan has, either - neither of them have any clue as how to proceed. but the silence is dragging on too long so phil clears his throat awkwardly. 

“get out, i want to show you something,” phil demands, finally thinking of the perfect thing to do with a cute boy on a crisp october night. 

dan nods and scrambles out of the car, stumbling a bit on a root before righting himself, face red in embarrassment. phil just laughs good-naturedly and gestures for dan to join him behind the car. he does. 

phil pops the trunk and takes out his beloved crosley and places it on the roof of the falcon. 

“what’s that?” dan asks, pointing to a small baggy inside the trunk. 

phil laughs a bit, “it’s just some sassafras. you ever tried it?” 

wide-eyed and innocent, dan shakes his head. then phil thinks about how young dan is, only 16 compared to phil’s 18. he slams the boot of the falcon before dan can get any ideas. “then it’s best you don’t, not tonight at least,” he asserts gently, and that’s that. 

“anyway,” he continues, “the reason we’re out here is for this,” he gestures grandly at the record player and runs around to the passenger side door to grab the record he wants and a blanket. 

“is that a crosley dansette?” dan asks, inspecting the turntable in awe. 

phil smiles, “my pride and joy,” he says, slamming the car door shut with his foot as a huge blanket was bundled in his arms, a record precariously balancing on top. which was perhaps not the best idea because no sooner had phil placed his foot back on the ground had the record fallen off of the blanket and hit the grass. 

“shit,” phil hisses, tossing the blanket to the ground so he and dan could sit down. they do, and dan reaches for the record and laughs immediately upon seeing the cover. 

“you actually had this in your car? what are the chances?” 

“pretty high,” phil says, “it is a fantastic album, after all.” 

dan gets up to put the record into the crosley. the familiar and comforting opening notes to _the sounds of silence_ begin to float melodiously into the air and dan sighs happily as he settles himself back on the blanket. 

“i can’t believe i found someone like me, here of all places,” dan notes in reverence. “and i don’t just mean, like, because of this,” - he gestures between the two of them as if to say ‘the boys liking boys thing’ - “i mean all kinds of ways. we’re both from england, we have the same music taste, we both want to work in film, we’re both awkward and freakishly tall - no offense,” he finishes (awkwardly). 

phil laughs, “it’s refreshing, definitely. having someone you can be yourself around, completely genuine. i’m really glad you decided to request that song earlier,” they share a smile and phil’s stomach does a weird flipping-over thing. 

dan’s confident hand reaches out and snatches phil’s, gripping it tight. he won’t make eye contact while he does it (which phil thinks is ridiculously adorable), almost as if his hand betrayed him by holding phil’s. phil hopes that’s not the case, because he squeezes dan’s hand back like it’s a lifeline. 

they sit in easy silence for a while, listening to the soothing beats of simon & garfunkel’s _sounds of silence album_ , holding hands on a blanket and looking at the stars, the river, the state border into kentucky, sneaking looks at each other more often than either would care to admit. 

the peace is disturbed when _april come she will_ starts to play. phil has to stand up, it’s his favorite on the album. he extends a hand to dan, attempting grand chivalry but most likely falling somewhere closer to an over-excited toddler. dan looks up at him, puppy-dog eyes filled with bemusement. 

“dance with me,” phil says. 

but dan is immediately shaking his head vehemently. “no, absolutely not, phil, i cannot dance.”

“i’ll show you, c’mon,” phil insists, forcibly dragging dan to his feet and off of the blanket, moving them both closer to the music.

“you know, i think i may have sprained my ankle on the tilt-a-whirl, i think i should stay off it for a while,” dan attempts, half-heartedly faking a limp. 

“yeah nice try, now come here and put your arms on top of my shoulders,” phil instructs, and dan does so with a grimace on his face. 

“i’m gonna step on your feet, phil,” dan says, trying to keep phil at an arm’s length away. 

“i got toes of steel, didn’t i mention that?” phil reassures him. dan smirks and allows himself to step closer and phil can feel his arms release the rigid tension they had built up. 

“good,” phil encourages, “now just sway to the rhythm,” phil leads as they slowly turn in circles, silently listening to the lyrics of the song as they dance under the moonlight, crickets keeping time with the music. 

the song is coming to a close and phil suddenly thinks, it's now or never. so he twirls dan under his arm and dan laughs gleefully as he spins around, stumbles slightly (baby deer. adorable.) and phil takes the opportunity to pull his waist closer, so that it is aligned with phil’s. the mood shifts and dan is looking between phil’s eyes and lips, mouth parted slightly. phil finally, _finally_ catches those lips with his own and yeah, he thinks as they continue to kiss and sway to the song, this feels right.

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed :)
> 
> you can find me on tumblr @foxpatronus


End file.
